


Where We Left Off

by JohnAmendAll



Series: Fabulous Investigations [1]
Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: 500 prompts, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 06:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second time Isobel met Zoë.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where We Left Off

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a '500 Prompts' meme. Prompt 48, from [lost_spook](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook): " I used to remember you. - Zoe Heriot"

Zoë entered her override code and the inner hatch of the ventral airlock slid open. The faulty intrusion sensor was located in a bank of equipment near the ceiling, and it should be a simple matter to remove it and slot in a replacement. Logically, the fault had to lie with the sensor: there was no record of either hatch opening, and the airlock, apart from her, was plainly empty. 

She looked up to the sensor, and realised that it wasn't faulty after all. There actually was something in the airlock that shouldn't be. A brightly-painted statue was attached to the ceiling: an angel, its gilded wings spread wide, its sightless eyes staring down at her. 

_It's got to be some kind of elaborate practical joke,_ she thought, and turned to the communications panel— 

In, seemingly, the blink of an eye, she was in a hotel room, of luxurious but antiquated appearance. Before she could do more than glance around, the door opened and a blonde woman dressed in the style of the previous century came in. As her eyes fell on Zoë, her expression changed to astonished delight. 

"Zoë!" she said. "Wherever did you spring from? And how did you know I was here?" 

"Who are you?" Zoë asked. Maybe in other circumstances she'd have managed something more polite, but her unexplained teleportation to wherever this was had left her disorientated. 

"You don't know me?" The woman moved closer, concern now written across her face. "Are you all right? Have you been in an accident or something?" 

"I'm in excellent health. But I've no idea who you are or how I got here." Zoë pulled out her tablet computer and tapped at it briefly. "No GPS or wifi. Is there something wrong with the comms here? And where is 'here' anyway?" 

"Gothenburg. I got sent here to photograph some dreary furniture exhibition... Zoë, are you sure you're feeling OK?" 

"I don't see that it's any of your business how I feel. You could be anyone." 

The blonde took a deep breath. "I'm not anyone. Zoë, I'm your friend." 

"You'll have to prove that. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence." 

"All right. Your name's Zoë Heriot, you're from the twenty-first century, you work on a space station, you went to university in somewhere called the City and got a double first in maths and astrophysics..." 

"You could have got all that from LinkedIn," Zoë said, trying not to let her mind dwell on 'from the twenty-first century.' Combined with the old-fashioned look of the room and the lack of connectivity, it had some worrying implications. 

The woman spread her hands. "I don't even know what LinkedIn is. You like strawberries and cream." 

"Many people do." 

"You don't drink wine." 

"If you know I work in space, that follows logically." 

There was a hint of frustration in the blonde's voice. "How about this? There's a small scar near the top of your left thigh, which you got falling out of a window when you were nine. Your first crush was on a dancer called Alisa Galina and you had her as your screensaver for weeks — whatever a screensaver is. On the Kinsey scale you put yourself at four and a half. You've got a secret fantasy about being—" 

"Stop it!" Zoë clutched her head. "You can't be doing this. It's impossible." 

The woman half-smiled. "You said you wanted extraordinary evidence." 

"But are you reading my mind?" 

"I don't have to. You told me all that, Zoë." 

"We were... close?" Zoë sounded as if she couldn't quite picture it. 

"You really don't remember, do you?" 

Cold fear was beginning to grip Zoë. "I really don't. If I can't trust my own mind, what can I trust?" 

"You'll have to trust me for now. You don't even know what year it is, do you?" 

"What _year?_ " 

The blonde dug in her handbag and pulled out a small, red-covered book. "Here. My diary for this year." 

Zoë took one look at the cover and sat down, her legs feeling suddenly weak. "I'll believe you. That means I've got nowhere to go." 

"And I bet you haven't got anything that people round here would accept as money. You need me, Zoë. Unless you're going to disappear again." 

"I've no idea if I'm going to disappear or not, but assuming I don't, I don't think I've got much of a choice." Zoë held out her hand. "Nice to meet you. What's your name, by the way?" 

The blonde clasped Zoë's hand in both of hers. "I hoped if we talked it might come back to you... never mind. I'm Isobel. Isobel Watkins." 

"Isobel." Zoë looked up at her, and searched her memory for anything connected with that name. She found nothing bar a vague, fragmented impression of fun and joie de vivre. And come to think of it, when was the last time Zoë had even had fun? "You seem like a nice person, and I don't know how close we were before. But." She paused, and swallowed. "Whatever relationship we had before, I've got to work my half of it out again from first principles. So do you think you could be patient with me and not try to hurry me into anything?" 

"Me? Hurry you?" Isobel tried to look solemn, but the corners of her mouth were twitching. "The first time we met I wasn't the one who— well, anyway. How do you fancy a trip to the shops? If you're going to stick around you'll need a toothbrush and clothes and so on." 

"Sounds like fun," Zoë said. "And... do you think I could get a feather boa? I don't know why, but somehow I feel I ought to have one."


End file.
